Calendar Pages
by AsterLea
Summary: Drabble/oneshot series about Fred and Hermione, one for each month of the year. Written for the "Twelve Months of Love" challenge at HPFC.
1. January

**A/N: Written for astronauts' "Twelve Months of Love" challenge at HPFC. Drabble series about Fred and Hermione.**

**Setting: GoF, eventually OoTP  
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**Prompts used: "Fidelity" by Regina Spektor, 2am, "What on earth?"  
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**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and all of its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. "Fidelity" belongs to Regina Spektor. (I would recommend giving it a listen before you read this chapter. It'll help!)**

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><p><em>January<em>

"Fred! What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione was so startled she nearly fell off the windowsill.

"Better question is, what on earth are _you_ doing in the common room at 2:00 a.m.?"

"Couldn't sleep," she mumbled, turning to watch the snow fall outside.

"Something wrong?" he asked, leaning against the window. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No, nothing's wrong. It's...it's really stupid."

"Can't be much stupider than the reason why I'm awake at this hour. You go first."

"Okay," she sighed. "You know that song McGonagall played for us when she was teaching us how to dance for the Yule Ball?"

"Regretfully, but yes."

"It's been stuck in my head all night. I can't sleep because it keeps playing over and over again! And I've got a huge Charms exam tomorrow and I need my sleep because if I don't sleep I won't be able to concentrate and then I'll—"

Fred placed a hand over Hermione's mouth. Although his hand was calloused and rough from Quidditch, its warmth radiated through her body, relieving her of the bitter January draft that leaked through the window. "Shh. It's okay. I know exactly how you feel."

Hermione batted his hand away. "Sure you do."

"Honest! That's why I'm here. I've got this dumb Muggle song stuck in my head that my dad played over Christmas break."

"What song?"

"I dunno. All I know is it's a lady singer. I don't even know what the song's called, or any of the words. Okay, one word."

"How does it go?"

"Ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah aaaa-aaaaah," he sang in a creaky falsetto, his head bouncing in time with the rhythm.

Hermione snorted back a laugh. "I'm sorry, but...that's really how it goes?"

"Yes! Ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah aaaa-aaaaah!"

Maybe it was because she was loopy from lack of sleep, but Hermione began to laugh so hard that she held on to the wall to balance herself. "That's—that's the silliest song I've ever heard!"

"And it's driving me mad!" Fred held Hermione by the shoulders. "You try going to sleep with that 'ah, ah-ah-ah' playing through your brain all night!"

Hearing Fred sing in that high of a register again made her laugh even harder. She gasped and squeaked for air, tears streaming down her face.

"Settle down, silly," Fred laughed, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You're gonna wake all of Hogwarts."

Hermione turned her face into his chest. Fred could feel her muffled laughter reverberating through him. He put his other arm around her and watched the falling snow, happy he got her mind off the Charms exam.

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><p><strong>(Yes, I realize that time-travel to a music store in the late 2000's on Arthur's part would only be logical for Fred to know that song.)<br>**

**No offense, Ms. Spektor, but that chorus really does sound silly. Especially if you imagine Fred Weasley singing it. **

**Review please?  
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	2. February

**A/N: Prompts used: Head Girl, teeth, grapes.**

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><p><em>February<em>

Fred watched Hermione furiously write an essay from the other end of the couch in the common room. The soft curls of her hair brushed the parchment, and her cheeks were rosy from concentration. He knew she worked way too hard for her own health, but the expressions she made while she did her assignments were so damn cute.

He held a bunch of grapes in his hand he smuggled back from the Great Hall. He pulled one off the vine and placed it in the back of his mouth, popping the skin loudly between his molars.

"Do you mind?" Hermione snapped.

Fred defensively held up his hands. "Sor-ry. Didn't know our future Head Girl needed absolute silence when she studied."

Hermione blushed, flattered, but still sounded stressed. "I've only got ten inches of this fifteen-inch Transfiguration essay done and I want to get it finished before—"

"Catch," he said, tossing a grape at her mouth. It bounced off her nose.

"Ow! Fred! What was that for?"

"Ow? You can't tell me that hurt."

"Well, no, but—"

"You weren't at dinner tonight. Believe me, I noticed. The Gryffindor table's awfully quiet without your busybee chatter and poking fun at Ron. I asked Harry where you were, and he told me you skipped dinner to write your essay." He scooted closer to her and handed her the grapes. "Here. I brought these for you. No one's brain works properly when they haven't eaten. Even I know that."

"Thank you, Fred," she said, taking them. She turned the grapes over in her hands and sighed. "I've been so drowned in assignments lately that I feel invisible. No one's said hello to me all evening. Not even Ron or Harry has stopped by to ask me how my essay's coming along or if I'm all right. I—I'm glad you care."

"I'd be a fool not to care, Hermione," he said, resting a hand on her knee. "Now, you better eat those before your Transfiguration essay turns into an essay about fried chicken."

She plucked off one of the grapes and smiled a bit as she chewed it.

"You have really nice teeth," Fred said.

Hermione blushed again. "Thank you. My parents are dentists."

"Are what?"

"Dentists. Think of them as teeth Healers."

"Teeth Healers? So do Muggles have tongue Healers and lip Healers too?"

Hermione laughed, showing all of her pristine teeth. "Of course not. That's just silly."

"Sounds just as silly as teeth Healers. But I don't mind." Fred leaned forward and gently kissed Hermione on the lips. She blushed even deeper now, and giggled girlishly. "As long as I always get to see that beautiful smile."

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><p><strong>Review please?<br>**


	3. March

**A/N: Prompts used: Dance class, fool, a red-bricked fireplace, art**

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><p><em>March<em>

Leading Fred by the hand, Hermione Flooed from Hogwarts and came out a small, red-bricked fireplace in Muggle London.

"Where are we?" Fred asked, his voice echoing through the empty, mirrored room.

"The old studio where I used to take dance class," Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. "You said you wanted to be alone."

Fred hesitantly broke off, taking in the wall-height windows, wooden bars, and general emptiness of their surroundings. "We'll be alone until the next lot of kiddie ballerinas waltz in! How do we explain that two teenagers broke in via fireplace to snog in their studio?"

"Funding for the fine arts center ran short, so they closed the dance program years ago. See, the door's blocked off." She motioned to a cemented-over exit door. "This place is perfect. We'll never be interrupted!"

Much to Hermione's confusion, Fred seemed more interested in the ballet bars than her. "What do you do on these things? Flips and whatnot?" Fred placed his hands on the bar and raised himself a few inches off the ground. He began to tilt forward.

"Fred, careful, those aren't meant to support—"

"WOAH!" Fred flipped completely over in an instant. He landed in an upside-down heap under the bar. "Ow..."

Hermione crawled under the bar towards him so her face was looming over his. She gave him a light slap on the shoulder. "You fool! Did you really think dancers use those bars to flip themselves?"

"How would I know? I dance like a centaur on roller skates."

She laughed and kissed him again, taken aback by the unusual, exciting sensation of an upside-down kiss. Their lips and tongues pushed back and forth, exchanging passion both gentle and firm. They were gasping for air when they finally broke apart.

"This is new," Fred breathed. "I like it. Maybe we should come here more often."

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><p><strong>Review please?<strong>


	4. April

**A/N: Prompts used: "Please don't be in love with someone else," oh God, Three Broomsticks, guilt**

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><p><em>April<em>

Fred downed the last of his third butterbeer and signaled to the Three Broomsticks barman for another, hoping that by some magical mistake he'd be able to drown his thoughts in them.

"Slow down, mate!" Lee said. "You'll be destitute before you're even close to drunk."

"Yeah, we can't afford to ask Mum for more money again," George said. "That would be the third time this month. Now, will you please tell us what's wrong?"

Fred groaned, figuring if he didn't tell them now, they'd pester him all night until he did. "Hermione's mad at me. She hasn't spoken to me in days. She won't even look at me in the hallway."

"You think that's her way of chucking you?" Lee asked.

"Can't be. We were never really together. Just did a load of snogging, that's all."

"So why is she giving you the silent treatment?"

Fred took a sip of his butterbeer and let out a heavy, guilty sigh. "I made _one comment_ last week about how I used to think Angelina was hot, and then she smacked me with her rucksack, called me a two-timer, and stormed out of the room. She hasn't spoken to me since."

George, unfailingly, found the hole in Fred's argument. "You sure you said 'used to think?'"

"I—I thought I did."

"Critical mistake, Freddy," George said, clasping his twin on the shoulder. "Did you learn nothing from Bill and his parade of ex-girlfriends?"

"She's not my—"

"Doesn't matter. You can't let the girl know you are, may be, or ever were interested in another female. If you want to keep her, you have to make her feel like she's it. Otherwise—"

"Oi, Fred! Is that your girlfriend?" the clueless barman asked, pointing out the window. To Fred's horror, he saw Hermione walking down the road, her arm around Harry's shoulders. He whispered something in her ear, and although Fred couldn't hear them, he saw Hermione's perfectly white teeth as she laughed at whatever Harry said.

"No. Oh, God, no." He grabbed fistfuls of his hair as his head slunk into his hands.

"Calm down, Fred, it's probably not what it seems," George said, keeping an eye on the window.

"Well, I _thought_ she was your girlfriend," the barman said.

Lee motioned to the barman to come closer so he could whisper to him. He suddenly seemed to understand whatever Fred could not. _Please, please don't be in love with someone else,_ Fred silently pleaded.

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><p><strong>Review please?<br>**


	5. May

**A/N: Prompts used: avoidance, doubts, moody, coffee, grandiloquence, mint, stark, nude, 'excuse me?'. In other words, ALL of them! *proud***

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><p><em>May<em>

It was noon when Fred finally woke up that Saturday, his body heavy and sticky with sleep. Annoyed that no one had the decency to wake him up earlier, he hazily lumbered over to the showers. When he came back, he noticed a steaming mug of coffee sitting on his nightstand. Although George could have very well put it there and spiked it with Regurgitation Drops, it smelled so earthy, delicious, and faintly of mint. The smell was tantalizing, waking him up better than the shower did. At this point, he didn't care if he got sick—he desperately needed something to make him feel like he didn't sleep for 13 hours. But before he could take a sip, he noticed the cream swirls on top come together to spell out a message—_I miss you._

"Aw, c'mon, Lee. Summer's not even here yet and you miss me already?"

"It's not Lee. It's me." Hermione scooted a very flat version of herself out from behind Fred's dresser. With a wave of her wand, she returned back to her normal state with a pop.

"Blimey, warn me next time you suddenly decide to start talking to me again!" Fred's face flushed, suddenly aware of the fact that he was nearly nude. He angrily wrapped his towel around his waist. "Well? Is that all you have to say? You miss me?" he asked harshly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, her eyes to the floor. "I overreacted. I was wrong. I—I hurt you," she said through a sob.

"Yes, yes, and...yes, you did."

She sniffled and sat on George's bed, still avoiding Fred's eyes. "I mean it, too. I miss you. I miss holding you and snogging you. I miss the way you make me laugh. I miss laughing. Ever since I stormed out of the room and hit you with my rucksack I had my doubts. I knew I would be walking out on a guy who could make me happy no matter what mood I was in—and you've seen how moody I get over nothing sometimes. I knew I was walking out on someone amazing. I wanted to turn around right then and there, say I was sorry, but I just couldn't—I couldn't!" Her words gave way into sobs.

Fred leapt over to the other bed, his towel falling to the floor. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and let her tears course down his shoulders. If this were any other time, he would have thrown a sweet in her mouth to cut off her babbling and told her she was wonderful and should really stop worrying. But he let her guilt run its course as he rocked her gently, running a hand through her thick, bushy hair. "I forgive you."

"How?" she groaned.

Fred held her out at arm's length. "Because you're you, Hermione. I'd be an idiot to let the most beautiful, intelligent, and genuine girl in Gryffindor pour her heart out to me and not forgive her. And when you walked out that day—" He wiped a tear from her cheek. "—I knew you wouldn't be gone for good. Every day, I waited for you to come back, because I knew you would."

"You did?"

"Always did. I can see it in the way you look at me, Hermione. I'm not just some guy you have around for a snog and shag. You know I'm an expert at making people laugh, but I know a thing or two about reading people as well. Although neither of us have said it out loud, I know what that look in your eyes says. And Hermione, I can only hope I've been saying the same thing back to you." Fred cradled Hermione's neck and kissed her with all the passion he had lost in missing her. Hermione pulled him in tight and snogged him deeply, her tears falling onto his cheeks and trailing down his neck. They broke apart suddenly, with Hermione looking bashful.

"So, you ready to try this again?" Fred asked.

"As soon as you get some clothes on," Hermione said in that playful tone he missed.

"Aw, c'mon, Hermione, you know you can't resist this," Fred said grandiloquently. He seductively ran a finger down his carved chest.

Hermione chuckled, but shielded her eyes with her hand. "That may be true, but you're a bit overexposed right now."

Fred looked down and realized he was stark naked. He let out a yelp of embarrassment. Covering himself, he sped over to his disorganized dresser and frantically searched for a pair of boxers. "Don't look!" he shouted as he opened the bottom drawer, bending over in a rather unflattering way.

Hermione had placed a pillow over her eyes, but she had already gotten an eyeful. "You've got a hairy bum," she mumbled.

"What did you say?" Fred shouted when he finally got a pair of boxers on. Hermione removed the pillow from her eyes and saw Fred glaring at her, mock-enraged.

"I said, er, fancy some more coffee?" She handed him the mug.

"Why, I'd love some, thank you!" he said over-dramatically. Fred sat on the bed and took a long sip, sighing happily. "This is delicious, by the way."

"Is it? I was hoping I got it right—two tablespoons of cream and one lump of sugar." Fred nodded, impressed. "I added a drop of Pepper-Up Potion too. And two Regurgitation Drops."

Fred spat out the coffee, spraying droplets everywhere. "Excuse me?"

Hermione's face slowly turned red, straining to suppress a laugh. Fred set down the mug and rubbed his hands together. "Why you little—"

Hermione shrieked as Fred dived on top of her, tickling her ribs until she was dizzy with laughter.


	6. June

**A/N: Prompts used: bus, last page of a novel, questioning, disco, search.**

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><p><em>June<em>

_BANG._

Hermione practically threw her book in the air in surprise. "Who's there?"

_Thump. Thump._ The sound was creeping closer from her open window.

"Oh no oh no oh no." She frantically searched under her bed for a bludgeoning object. Considering she was just on the last page of her crime novel, Hermione was especially nervous. She found a cricket bat and held it up, shaking. Whoever was about to break into her room, Hermione was ready to bean them all the way to Ireland.

A familiar face appeared at the window and waved. "Oi! Crawling up your rain spout may've been easier."

"Fred!" she shouted, yanking him inside by his shirt collar. "Are you mental? What are you doing here?"

"It's ten p.m. on a Friday night. What are you doing here?"

"Er...reading in my room, as I always do before bed."

Fred tutted. "Wouldn't you rather do something else?"

Hermione shot him a questioning look. "Like what?"

Fred indicated to a purple, three-tiered bus idling on the street. "Change out of those nightclothes. We're going to Ophelia's Opus."

"Where?"

"A teen disco in Wizarding London. Now hurry! We want to get there before they ramp up their cover charge."

"But my parents—"

Fred waved his wand and a pink fog fell over the house. "Will never notice."

Hermione still had no idea what was going on, but she went into her closet and searched for disco-appropriate clothing. "I've never even been to a disco. What would one even wear to it? Should I bring Galleons? Where is this place? And how did you get to my house?"

"Hailed the Knight Bus. Crawled up the side of your house wearing Sticking Mitts. Only two Galleons at Zonko's!"

She sighed. "You and your Zonko's junk."

"It's not junk! Their stuff is handy for more than pranks when used properly."

Hermione emerged from her closet wearing a shimmery pink blouse and black leggings. "How's this? Does it look all right?"

Fred beckoned, and Hermione straddled his lap. He held the back of her head and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her strawberry lip gloss and peppermint-fresh teeth. "Does that answer your question?"

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><p>Fred sat at the bar with an elderberry soda, watching Hermione talk animatedly with Lavender from the other side of the club. He knew that he could go to proper discos and drink men's drinks now that we was of age, but the opportunity to sneak his goody-two-shoes girlfriend out of her house was a definite trade-up. He knew Hermione was stuck at home all summer, away from him, all of her Hogwarts friends, and any sort of mischief Fred knew she secretly loved. Tonight, she was having a wonderful time despite panicking about curfew the entire bus ride. She and Lavender were now dancing together under the colorful disco lights, laughing and shouting to each other over the deafening music. Hermione's eyes searched briefly, then settled on Fred. She beckoned.<p>

_Me?_ Fred mouthed, dramatically placing his hand on his chest.

Hermione twirled her hand around her head and flung it forward, pulling what appeared to be an invisible rope she had lassoed around Fred. He had no idea what it meant, but he eagerly lurched forward with every pull.


	7. July

**A/N: Prompts used: unaware, canary creams, falling stars, change**

_July_

He had managed to sneak Hermione out of her house again, with the help of side-along Apparition and Silencing charms. As the rest of the Weasley family slept indoors, Fred and Hermione lay on the grass in the backyard of the Burrow, counting the falling stars.

At least Fred was. Hermione was cuddled next to him, seemingly more interested in his neck than anything. "What's this?" she asked, pointing to a diamond-shaped scar, surprised she had been unaware of it until now.

"Gee, I dunno," he said sarcastically. "I think it was from when YOU attacked me."

Hermione giggled, embarrassed. "Sorry. Must've gotten carried away. You _did_ say you wanted me to bite harder."

"Not _that_. That was a lovebite. Nicked some of Ginny's makeup to cover it." He indicated to the scar. "_This_ was a crazed hen attacking me."

Hermione looked affronted. "Who?"

"You! Don't you remember?"

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><p>"This is brilliant!" Fred said, rushing into the common room holding some sort of pastry. "Wait'll George sees this. This will definitely be a hot seller in our joke shop."<p>

"What is it?" Hermione asked, setting her Herbology notes aside.

"I've managed to Transfigure a bunch of broccoli into a delicious custard cream while keeping its entire nutritional value. Now, you can have all the nutrients of vegetables while eating dessert! I call it...Vegiguise!"

Hermione clapped her hands. "That's brilliant, Fred! Does it really taste like a custard cream?"

"I dunno. I've been too scared to try. The only way I eat broccoli is when it's been doused in salad dressing." He winked. "Would you like to be my taste-tester?"

"Of course!" Hermione said. She was so proud of Fred and George for turning their knack for everything silly into something useful and profitable. She would never admit it, but she was somewhat jealous of them for getting all of this sudden attention for their genius.

Hermione bit into the custard cream. "This is perfect! How did—" She coughed, but it was more of a squeak.

"You okay?" Fred said, smiling.

Hermione would have turned a fuming red if she wasn't turning yellow and feathery. Within seconds, she had changed into a giant canary. She must have tried to say "FRED!", but it came out an ear-splitting "PEEEEEP!"

"They work! The canary creams work!" Fred shouted, trying to outpace canary-Hermione, but it was useless. She had blown him to the floor with the force of her wings and was pecking him viciously, chirping bird-swears in between.

"Oh, er, sorry to interrupt," a voice said from the portrait hole.

Hermione looked up and noticed Harry and Ron standing in front of her. Ron looked like he would vomit. She suddenly realized that she had returned to human form, and was straddling Fred on the floor of the common room.

Lucky for her, she had her voice back.


	8. August

**A/N: prompts used- twilight, silhouette, chemical**

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><p>Twilight fell through the tall windows of 93 Diagon Alley, giving the fresh green paint a garish orange shimmer. Hermione, Fred and George were nearly finished painting the new joke shop. The chemical fumes stung at Hermione's sinuses and were making her dizzy. Nonetheless, she diligently continued to make neat vertical strokes with her wand as Fred and George became noticeably loopier.<p>

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

BUMP.

"Nope, the ceiling's still wet!"

THUD.

"Oh, well. Looks like we'll have to paint it _again!_" Fred and George dissolved into laughter.

Hermione groaned. "We'll be here all night if you two keep 'testing' the ceiling!"

"Nah. I think we'll keep it like this." Fred, whose back was entirely green, pointed to an imprint on the ceiling. "Adds a little personal touch."

George, who was equally green, nodded. "I agree. I quite like the silhouette of the Fred head." The two held onto each other in laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her jeans. "I don't know about you two, but I'm bloody starving. I'm ready to break for dinner when you are. Still want to go to Salvatore's Spaghetti Shack?"

"Absolutely," George said, clutching his empty stomach. "Tuesdays are one-Galleon endless spaghetti nights. I might break my own record of six plates. What say you, Fred? Are we gonna put Sal out of business tonight?"

"Definitely." Fred inched closer to Hermione and put his hands around her waist. "But I, for one, am gonna need to save room for _dessert_." He ran two fingers through a curl of Hermione's hair.

Hermione giggled flirtatiously. She leaned closer to him, cocking her head to one side, her lips slightly parted. Fred's lips were inching closer, nearly brushing hers.

"In your dreams, George."

"I'm not George, honey. I'm Fred."

"No, you're definitely George. Fred doesn't call me 'honey.' He calls me 'sweet cheeks.' And Fred has a scar on his neck from when he made me test out a canary cream. You, on the other hand, have a rather ghastly-looking mole." She crossed her arms proudly. "Nice try, boys. Now, let's get to Salvatore's before he runs out of those meatballs."

Hermione briskly led Fred and George out of the shop and into the humid but refreshing August evening. The twins whispered behind her.

"Good job, Fred. It's rare you can find a girl who can outfox the infamous Weasley twins."

Fred chuckled. "She's brilliant; what can I say?"

George snorted. "And you call her 'sweet cheeks?'"

"Say that again and I'll hex your lips shut."

"Fair enough. I'm not missing out on endless spaghetti."


End file.
